


Is That My Shirt?

by Sinelaborenihil



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25070785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinelaborenihil/pseuds/Sinelaborenihil
Summary: Varric Tethras gets his shirt back from Marian Hawke when she arrives at Skyhold.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Varric Tethras
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Is That My Shirt?

**Author's Note:**

> Response to the Reddit Writing Prompt: Is that my shirt?

Varric stumped through the halls of Skyhold clenching and unclenching his fists as his anger threatened to overwhelm him. Thank the Maker that Inquisitor Lavellan had shown up when she did. He wasn’t sure how his fight with Seeker Cassandra would have gone otherwise.  


She had called him a snake. And for what? Trying to make sure that Hawke hadn’t gotten drawn into this whole fucking mess.  


Not that it had mattered, because she was here at the ancient fortress, decidedly drawn into this mess.  


And it was all his fault.  


He paused outside the room that had been given to Hawke and forced himself to take several deep breaths. It was the first time they had been alone in months and he had missed her terribly. He didn’t want his anger and fear to taint the experience, especially when she would be leaving the next day for Crestwood.  


He knocked on the door and felt the familiar thump of his heartbeat increasing at her voice.  


“Who is it?”  


“Your trusty dwarf sidekick,” he said.  


He heard the sound of her heavy footsteps and then the door was flung open. He scarcely had a chance to look at her before she pulled him into a fierce embrace. Someone had clearly pointed her in the direction of the baths, because her skin smelled of verbena and she had shed the Robes of the Champion.  


He kicked the door shut behind himself without letting her out of his arms, just grateful for the warm solidity of her body against his.  


“Are you all right?” she asked after several moments, pulling back and resting her hands on his shoulders. Her amber eyes searched his. “Are they treating you all right? Tell me if they aren’t and I swear-”  


“I’m fine, Hawke,” Varric said.  


“You’re lying,” she retorted, pulling back and crossing her arms over her chest. It was then that Varric realized that she was only wearing a shirt. An extremely familiar shirt.  


“Is that my shirt?” he asked, trying not to notice the way the firelight caught the muscles in her strong, brown legs.  


She flushed. “Don’t change the subject,” she said, though her lips were quirking into a smile. “You’re upset.”  


Varric waved a hand and went to pour himself some wine. “The Seeker and I had a...conversation,” he replied.  


Hawke’s eyes narrowed. “She’s the one who interrogated you,” she said, her voice the deadly growl that frequently proceeded violence. “I’d like to have my own...conversation with her.”  


“Hawke-”  


“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” she said, accepting a glass of wine from him. “I should have stayed. I should-”  


“They would have taken you and forced you into this mess,” Varric said, shaking his head. Unbidden the awful thought of Hawke’s hand glowing green with the power of the Anchor came to him and he shuddered. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come,” he said miserably. Yes, they had fought Corypheus together, and yes, Hawke was one of the most powerful mages he knew, but in the dead of night when he had only himself to answer to, Varric knew that he had to admit that some part of him wrote to her because he was scared. He was scared that the world was ending at least in part because of something he had done and he needed his best friend, the woman who he-no, best not to go there. He needed Hawke. When he looked up, Hawke was watching him and the look on her face gave him goosebumps.  


“There’s nowhere I would rather be,” she said quietly, setting her wine glass down and taking his hands.  


“Really?” he somehow managed to croak. “You wouldn’t rather be in, oh, exotic Rivain than fighting an ancient darkspawn who thinks he’s a magister?”  


“You aren’t in exotic Rivain,” Hawke said firmly.  


Varric swallowed hard. “Me?”  


“You,” Hawke said, stepping close to him and draping her arms over his shoulders. She leaned down and rested her forehead against his. “If the world is going to end, I’m glad that I was able to see you before it did.” She gave a soft chuff of laughter. “Though I do hope that it doesn’t. There’s a lot of weird shit that we haven’t done yet.”  


Varric hugged her tightly, clenching his eyes shut as he breathed in the scent of her skin. The shirt rubbed against his face and he caught a whiff of cedarwood. “This is my shirt,” he grumbled. The soft sound of her laugh distracted him from the feeling of her breasts against his face and he pulled back to give her a stern look.  


“You loaned it to me!” she said. “That night Merril spilled ale on me.”  


“‘Loan’ implies that the object in question will one day be returned,” he noted drily. “That was years ago, Hawke.”  


She raised a dark eyebrow and took a step back. “You’re right,” she said.  


Before Varric could think of a retort, she pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it to him.  


The shirt fell, forgotten, to the floor as Varric stared.  


Hawke was wearing only smallclothes and a sassy smile as she put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow.  


“Hawke-what...what are you doing?” Varric managed to stammer.  


“Giving you your shirt back,” she replied.  


“But you...you’re-” for once in his life, Varric Tethras was completely lost for words. He saw the look of uncertainty flicker across her face and cursed himself. “You’re beautiful,” he hurried to add. And it was true. The soft curves of her body, the flickering firelight against her skin, the way her nipples hardened in the cool mountain air...she was a vision. Just not one had ever anticipated seeing.  


She blushed and took a step towards him. “Varric, tomorrow I leave for Crestwood. Who knows what the fuck is going to happen in the next few weeks.” She cocked her head. “We could die at any time,” she said quietly. “Not that that is especially new, but at least before...we would have been together.”  


Her words made his heart ache and he crossed to her before he even had a chance to think about it and wrapped his arms around her. Her skin was soft against his hands, marked here and there by scars that bespoke how true her words were.  


“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” she said, making his heart leap up into his throat. “But if you don’t, I-”  


He pulled her down for a kiss, smiling against her lips as she made the most adorable little squeak of surprise. He felt her answering grin as her arms tightened around him and when they broke the kiss they were both breathing hard.  


“Of course I want you,” he somehow managed to say despite her breasts tempting proximity. “I always have.”  


“Always?” she asked, her lovely eyes widening.  


Varric blushed and leaned in to take one of her hard nipples into his mouth.  


“Stop-stop trying to distract me!” Hawke moaned, trailing her fingers through his hair and tugging it out of its queue.  


Varric let her nipple pop from his mouth and palmed it, caressing it with his thumb while he sucked the other. Her hands tightened in his hair as she let out a moan that made his cock throb and begin to drip.  


“Fuck, Varric!” she hissed.  


Giving her nipple a final gentle lick, Varric pulled back and looked at her. “If you insist,” he said, giving her his best rakish smile. With that he lifted her, loving the way she laughed, and carried her over to the bed. There they finally made good on years of attraction, and need, and love, and when they finally collapsed, panting, Varric felt a curious warmth in his chest that he’d never known before.  


“I love you, Marian,” he said softly, kissing the top of her head as she cuddled against his chest.  


“I love you too, Varric,” she replied and he could hear the smile in her voice.  


He stroked his hand up and down her back, aware that there was a big, stupid smile on his face. It should have felt strange to say those words, but it didn’t. It was as though something had clicked into place. “You packed light to come here,” Varric observed as his eyes traveled around her room. “Why did you bring my shirt?”  


“Because I’m scared,” she admitted quietly, her arm tightening around his waist. “And it makes me feel like you’re with me.”  


“I always am,” he promised her, pulling her on top of him and hugging her. “And I always will be.”


End file.
